


by force or by ruse

by dustofwarfare



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Pre-Canon, SO MUCH BANTER, ardyn likes screaming, ardyn's a villain, bad theatre makes ardyn hot for it?, darkish, it's just these two are kind of fucked up, ravus is repressed, ravus likes being forced to enjoy things, somewhat creepy porn, starscourge and the exiled prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: “You realize that, as a politician and courtier by trade, I’m far more comfortable with evasive maneuvers and clever wordplay, hmm?”“I hadn’t noticed,” Ravus says, straight-faced.“Then let me attempt to strike true, as it were. I should like to fuck that bored look off your face,” Ardyn tells him. “Is that clear enough, or as a military man, do you require a typed set of orders and a map?”Or: Ravus needs to be forced into enjoying himself in bed. Ardyn has no problem with this. Pre-Canon.





	by force or by ruse

**Author's Note:**

> So in my other fic with Noct and Ardyn drinking wine, I had Ardyn reference being forced to attend a performance of a terrible play in the Imperial Capital called “Oath of the Graleans.” I based it on the painting Oath of the Horatii by David, which is based on a passage in Livy, from which the title of this fic comes.
> 
> (All my degrees are in ancient studies. This is how I choose to use them :D?) 
> 
> I read something in the Wiki that said Ravus’s eyes were gray before he was demonized in Kingsglaive, so that’s why he doesn’t have heterochromia in this story. Also, I have no idea how military ranks work in Niflheim but someone else was mentioned as having the title “brigadier general” and since this fic is before Ravus’s promotion to high commander, I decided that was the rank he held. 
> 
> Content Advisory -- the sex in this fic gets a bit dark; Ravus likes to be forced into pleasure, so there’s that. And there’s some disturbing dialogue that happens during the sex scene regarding someone Ravus killed for attempting to rape him (it’s not graphic, but I did I want to mention it). Ardyn is demonic and a villain and Ravus is six kinds of fucked up, so the sex scene pretty much follows along with that. Uh, enjoy? :D? :D? :|  
> ____

 

Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim, Starscourge, and perpetrator of an upcoming Armageddon, is sitting on what he’s sure is an imitation velvet seat in a theatre box, thinking about murdering the Niflheim Emperor. For no reason other than a production of _The Oath of the Graleans,_ which is the very worst of Imperial-sanctioned culture.

Ardyn has spent years molding this empire like clay, but what he wouldn’t _give_ to see some sort of dissent expressed through its art. This is nothing but poorly-disguised (and poorly written, poorly acted, poorly produced and the _costumery,_ by Ifrit, it’s abominable) propaganda, inane and trite, with a lot of uniformed soldiers marching about on stage and saluting for no reason. He lost the thread of the plot ages ago, and it’s still the first act.

Even Ardyn’s _demons_ are bored.

The only thing of interest at all is the man sitting to his right; Ravus Nox Fleuret, rising star in the Niflheim military and brother to the Oracle. Unlike Ardyn, who is slouched so low he might as well be sitting on the floor, Ravus has not so much as shifted in his seat. He’s a military man through and through; his spine is ramrod straight, his eyes fixed firmly on the stage.

He’s much more interesting to look at than the stage, that’s for certain.

Ravus is not precisely a handsome man, at least not by conventional standards. He’s fair of skin and hair and eyes, and from what Ardyn’s heard, his affect is as colorless as the rest of him; he is known to be humorless, overly serious and rather aloof. He tends toward white, a color that washes him out and makes him look like a particularly scowly snowflake as he strides about the capital or on missions.

“Is there some reason you are staring at me,” Ravus says, under his breath, and it takes Ardyn a moment to realize Ravus is speaking to him.

“You _are_ watching the same play I am, yes?” Ardyn asks, under his breath. “Dear boy, I would rather watch paint dry on a blank stone wall. My apologies that I find your profile more interesting than this drivel.”  

Ravus looks over at him, his storm-cloud eyes narrowed. “I was told it was an honor to attend a performance in the Emperor’s box. I am beginning to think I have committed some infraction for which there is no sufficient penalty.”

Oh, ho. What’s this? The scowly snowflake has a sense of humor? How unexpected.

“Ah, you assume there is anyone in the army with the imagination to come up with the idea of using terrible theatre for a punishment,” Ardyn says. “I daresay if anyone in the kingdom had that kind of imagination, this play wouldn’t be so terrible I am seriously considering staging an elaborate medical emergency to escape. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in stabbing me repeatedly until you punctured an organ, would you? You appear to be in uniform so I would assume you have your sword.”

He's only half-joking. Ardyn cannot die, he long ago tried every conceivable way to end his existence and as such, he knows exactly where to strike to hit an internal organ. He’s willing to try for all of them if it will get him out of here. 

Ravus’s expression remains neutral. “No. I’m concerned that my punishment for stabbing the Imperial Chancellor in public would be to attend the rest of these performances until I gasp my last. Ending your discomfort is not worth the pain of a mandatory season ticket.”

Ardyn chuckles. A sharp wit to go with his severe personality, perhaps Ardyn should have expected that. Always the quiet ones, indeed. “Ah, yes, well, that is certainly something to consider.” Ardyn slouches down in his seat even further and tugs his hat over his eyes. “Wake me up before intermission so that no one notices I’m sleeping, and I’ll buy you dinner after the show.”

Ravus’s looks briefly surprised, but then he simply nods and turns his cool gaze back to the stage. Ardyn has no authority whatsoever over the army, but he _is_ the Imperial Chancellor, and Ravus likely thinks he has no choice but to agree to terms. Ardyn doesn’t much care if he acquiesces thanks to duty or genuine interest; he can easily work with either.   

Ardyn pulls his hat over his eyes, but he doesn’t sleep. He rarely does, and never in public; the demons like to take advantage when his conscious mind is weakened, and while it’s mildly entertaining to think of what they might get up to in a crowded theatre, he decides to think about seducing Ravus Nox Fleuret instead. It’s just as self-indulgent as fantasizing about murdering the emperor, perhaps, but with marginally less blood involved.

The play drags itself to an end two hours later, and Ardyn stands up and claps for that more than anything. At least when he brings the world to an end it will be with a bang and a demon horde, not a whimper and a standing ovation borne from nothing but sheer relief.

“As promised, my thanks for allowing me my cat nap is dinner, my treat – are you still amenable?”

Ravus gives him an assessing look, like he’s trying to suss out what this invitation is for or what it might mean, but he accepts with a simple nod, and that is that.

***

They go to a quiet restaurant, one of the few that caters to the rich or the privileged; the food is passable at best, likely brought in from other areas of the Empire since the snow has rendered the capital city barren of most resources. Ardyn, who doesn’t need to eat and indulges only occasionally in a glass of wine or strong spirits, could care less. But the place is quiet, and they know who he is – meaning they know to leave him and his companion alone – and that’s what matters.

Ravus is too well-trained – and likely too used to poor nutrition in the army – to do anything but eat with perfunctory motions that speak of necessity rather than any real hunger. Food tastes mostly like lumpy paste to Ardyn, but he’s not entirely sure that it’s any different for someone who isn’t possessed by demons. Gralean cuisine seems to be as inspired as its drama.

“You’re not hungry?” Ravus asks, perceptive, his cloud-light eyes narrowed in suspicion. Does he think Ardyn is trying to poison him?

“Truth be told, I ate before the performance.” Ardyn smiles and sips his wine. “I thought that dinner would be a necessary preamble to the _actual_ proposition I shall make when we’re finished.”

Ravus frowns. “I am not accustomed to this sort of attention, Lord Chancellor. Why precisely did you wish to have dinner with me?”

It is obvious, to him at least, that Ravus fights for the Empire because it is the easiest way to ensure his sister’s safety. His spotless military record and his dedication might fool the emperor, but then again, Ardyn’s had more practice than most at deception so he knows it when he sees it.

“This sort of attention…do you mean, from men?” Ardyn asks, leaning forward, his chin in his hands.

“From anyone,” Ravus says flatly. “Certainly from high-ranking officials such as yourself, Lord Chancellor.”

Ardyn rolls his eyes. “Ardyn, please, and I find that hard to believe. You’re a high-ranking official yourself in the army, are you not? A brigadier general, I do recall. Yes?”

Ravus nods. “One of several, but, yes.”

“And there’s no one who would wish to court your favor? Or do you mean to assert the army is devoid of politics, in which case, I shall enlist at my earliest opportunity.” He winks.

Ravus remains as stone-faced as an ancient ruin, apparently impenetrable and just as difficult to read. “Surely you have heard it said that I have no favor to court.”

“My _dear_ Ravus,” Ardyn drawls. He does so love a challenge, and a challenge wrapped up in a puzzle is his most favorite of all. “Is that why you think I’ve asked you to dinner? For a favor.” He has heard many things of his companion, and most of them are far less favorable than his rather prickly disposition. Ravus is not well-liked; a foreigner, an exiled noble, and a brother to a woman most think is a witch.

“I shouldn’t think so. I doubt there is anything a mere military underling could provide that you might want.” Ravus takes a sip of his water. His wine remains untouched. “I would appreciate an answer, Lord Chancellor.”

Ardyn’s smile is different; less practiced and much less kind. He leans across the table, watching the way Ravus’s gaze tracks him like a hawk, like he’s a hunter staring down the scope of a rifle. No, that’s not an appropriate metaphor at all, is it? Firearms are the weapons of commoners. Ravus fights with a blade.

“How interesting that you should be so loyal to the Empire,” Ardyn says, because he wants to see how Ravus responds. “When by rights, one would think you and your family would side with Lucis in the war. Given you are from Tenebrae.”

There’s a slight tensing of Ravus’s mouth, but that’s the only reaction Ardyn gets for his efforts. “One would think incorrectly. I have no use for a dynasty of cowards. And before you ask, it isn’t an uncommon story and I am _sure_ you are already aware of my childhood and what befell my sister and I. If it’s truly your wish to seduce me, you’ll find your chances substantially diminished by introducing this topic conversation.”

Ardyn stares at him, and then laughs. Like the smile, earlier, it’s nowhere near the practiced grin or polite chuckle he’s perfected. “My, how delightfully direct you are. Tell me, do you fight like you converse, Ravus? A straight strike aimed for the heart?”  

“I fight to win, and I strike to kill. I’ve had to pierce many a man in many an area to achieve that objective, so if that answers your question….”

“It does,” Ardyn assures him. “You realize that, as a politician and courtier by trade, I’m far more comfortable with evasive maneuvers and clever wordplay, hmm?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ravus says, straight-faced.

“Then let me attempt to strike true, as it were. I should like to fuck that bored look off your face,” Ardyn tells him. “Is that clear enough, or as a military man, do you require a typed set of orders and a map?”

“Why?” Ravus asks. “I’m hardly positioned highly enough to make naught but the faintest of notches on your bedpost, and if I am of no use to you politically, I fail to see why fucking me is of any interest to you at all.”

Delighted, Ardyn nearly claps. Perhaps it was the hours of torturous repartee from that play, but this conversation is more enjoyable than he expected it to be. “The usual reason, my dear general. Lust? Do you think me above the pleasures of mortal men?”

_For the most part, I am, but I’m willing to give it a try._

Ravus studies him for a long time. “Forgive me for insulting you, if I have. I do not have the temperament for faking enjoyment simply to receive any sort of gain, and there is nothing I want that is in your power to grant me. If you mean to demote me for refusing you –”

“You are making this very difficult,” Ardyn interrupts. And there _is_ something Ravus wants that is in Ardyn’s power to give him, but the destruction of the line of Lucis is not incumbent upon Ravus spending the night in Ardyn’s bed. “There is nothing hidden about my request. You are free to refuse and if so, I shall bid you good evening and go about my merry way. You see? No guards to shackle you, no demotion back to private.”

“I’ve heard things about you,” Ravus says, carefully. The wariness on his face is the most open expression Ardyn’s seen from him thus far. “That for all your flirtations, you are notoriously difficult to bed. Why on Eos would I be the one to succeed when others have failed?”

How intriguing to know he’s earned himself a _reputation_. Ardyn _is_ rather flirtatious -- of all the weapons in his armiger, _charm_ is one of the oldest and most familiar to him – but it rarely goes any farther than that. Sex is very often more of a pain than it’s worth; his demons like the lack of control, but Ardyn does not.

Still. He does occasionally enjoy it, and Ravus’s difficult attitude and prickly demeanor is the sort of challenge that Ardyn likes. He might not indulge often, but he’s _very_ good at it, one does not spend two thousand years on the planet without picking up a few tricks to melt even the frostiest of icy generals.

“And you think it is so out of the realm of possibility that you’ve caught my interest?” Ardyn finishes his wine, wondering how this will play out and how the evening will end. It’s been a long time since he’s dealt with uncertainty and the novelty of it is strangely exciting.

“We’ve hardly spoken more than a handful of words before today, Lord Chancellor.”

“Ardyn,” he tries, again. “Perhaps the hours I spent watching a play centered on the fanatical loyalty of soldiers inspired me to want to bed one, and you were simply the nearest and the prettiest I could find.”

Ravus snorts. “I doubt it. That play nearly inspired me to _resign._ Besides, were that enough to rouse your ardor, I’m sure there are plenty who would welcome your attentions. Perhaps you would have a more fulfilling evening with one of them.”

“How flattering you think me so irresistible. I cannot speak to any motivation other than interest and pure lust, so if that isn’t enough, well, then, I shall thank you for some enjoyable banter and, though I sincerely regret the likelihood, see you at whatever dismal theatrical performance we are both required to next attend on his majesty’s _invitation_.”

Ravus stands up and crosses the table to stand beside him. Ardyn doesn’t bother standing, just tips his head back and looks up, waiting. He’s nothing if not patient.

“If you are used to your bed partners having a certain level of experience, then I think you’ll be disappointed. My reputation for being frigid is not without merit.” He delivers this like a military report, standing with his hands behind his back, as emotionless as a Magitek Trooper awaiting orders. “And to be quite frank, my attempts at these sorts of …. endeavors….have left me unsatisfied at best. So I highly doubt either of us will enjoy ourselves.”

Trying to save a two-thousand-year-old, demon-infested, fallen king from bad sex. How tragically noble, this scion of House Nox Fleuret.

_Take note, playwrights. This would make for far better theatre._

Ardyn rises to his feet, slowly, and moves in close. He takes Ravus by the chin, his fingers gripping a little too tight, and he says in a low voice, “Your experience, or lack thereof, matters not at all. I know what I’m doing, my pretty soldier. You may be assured that I will enjoy it.”

Ah, there it is – the slight hitch of breath, the gentle and inexorable dilation of dark pupils and well, isn’t that interesting. “You seem quite sure that you will succeed where others have failed, Lord Chancellor,” Ravus murmurs, and it’s clear that he’s trying for the same disinterested, clipped tone as earlier and failing.

“I am. But it’s up to you, of course. I shan’t force you…unless that is, of course, what you want?” Ardyn smiles, sensing his victory. Because of course that’s what Ravus wants, and for a man who has spent years bending an empire to his will…breaking one sexually repressed military commander is all in a day’s work.

***

As expected, it only takes some manhandling, some rough kisses and some silkily whispered threats to utterly unman Ravus Nox Fleuret.

Ravus kisses with more passion than Ardyn would have thought him capable; but it’s clear, by the time he’s undressing Ravus and shoving him ungently toward his bed, that there’s quite a bit of tightly-leashed violence in Ravus’s lithe, muscular form.

“Do you wish for this to be a fight?” Ardyn asks, when the back of Ravus’s knees hit against his mattress. “Is that what you want? Force? My boot on your throat? Do you want it to feel like rape?”

He smiles; the soft gasp Ravus makes in response is rather akin to a loud, earthy moan from anyone else. “Well? I _ache_ to give you what you want, my pretty general.” He pushes his hips forward, lazily, lets Ravus feel his own hard cock through their clothes. “Simply ask for it and it’s yours.”

Ravus breathes out, his hands resting on Ardyn’s shoulders. His body is vibrating with tension. “No. Rape takes no particular skill and brute force does nothing for me.” His hands fist in Ardyn’s hair – a bit of a surprise, that – and he pulls so Ardyn is looking right into his stormy, desperate eyes. “It’s pleasure I don’t like, Izunia. Make me take _that_ , and you’ll have succeeded where others have failed.”

“I do quite like a challenge,” Ardyn says, and kisses him – gently, too gently, arousing more annoyance than lust. He laughs outright and nips at Ravus’s bottom lip. “How long have you wanted this?”

“This is what you fail to understand,” Ravus murmurs, and bites _his_ lip. “I _don’t_ want it. I don’t want it so badly that I cannot _think_.”

What an utterly delightful and contradictory thing to say.

Ardyn smiles, allows the bite and wonders idly what will happen if Ravus draws blood – if he allows that during sex, his partner rarely survives the experience. He finds he is in no hurry to end Ravus’s life for at least the foreseeable future; Ravus feels good under Ardyn’s hands, his conversation didn’t bore him to death and he could be amusing for a least a little while.

Someone who wants so badly to be forced to enjoy himself…that’s enough of a novelty for Ardyn to suppress his darker urges for the moment. He’s made it a point for a great long time to enjoy himself regardless of the circumstances.

“One rule, my pretty general. Now, now, look at me.” Ardyn grabs him around the throat – _so easy,_ the Scourge murmur, writhing inside him in excitement and dread, _we could feast on his soul._

 _Hush,_ Ardyn tells them, and they shriek and settle like bats returned from a long flight, curling up to sleep.

Ravus is wide-eyed and panting for it, not struggling in Ardyn’s hold. It _would_ be easy. Really, killing the poor boy now would be more generous than anything. A good thing Ardyn is not particularly inclined toward generosity that does not benefit him in some way. He was, once, and look where that got him. “Do not make me bleed.”

Ravus gives a brief nod, as much as he can; he doesn’t ask why and Ardyn offers no more information on the matter. He kisses Ravus again and helps him undress, gets him on the bed wearing nothing but a tight black pair of boxer briefs that emphasize his narrow hips and aroused cock.

Ardyn stands by the bed, still fully dressed in his shirt, vest and pants, and takes the sword he’s relieved from Ravus’s uniform. He traces the tip of it from the hollow of Ravus’s throat and down, down, the tip drawing over the straining erection caught by the fabric of Ravus’s underwear. “For someone who must be forced to take their pleasure, you are certainly eager for it. Ah, ah,” Ardyn chuckles, moving quickly to tap Ravus’s mouth with the flat of the sword. “Don’t speak. _I_ don’t wish to bleed, but I have no such compunction about making you do so.”

He laughs at the look Ravus gives him and the way Ravus’s cock grows even harder in his boxer-briefs. Ardyn sets the sword aside and climbs on top of him, settling his weight over Ravus’s hips and taking his wrists in his hand. He moves them so that Ravus’s arms are stretched over his head, making a pleased sound. “Keep them there, hmm? Move them and I’m afraid you’ll make me _very_ unhappy.”

Ardyn leans down and bites Ravus’s chest, his shoulders, though despite his words about bleeding he is careful not to break the skin. The demons will be a bit too enticed at even the slightest hint of _soul_ and Ardyn is not in the mood to be overcome by bestial, insensate hunger. Plenty of time for that later.

Ravus gasps something and his head falls back, baring his throat. “How long you’ve wanted this,” Ardyn murmurs, kissing his way down his chest again, looking up to make sure Ravus’s arms are still above his head as he gets closer to Ravus’s cock.

He mouths over the dark fabric, breathing out hotly against the flesh trapped beneath. Ravus shifts beneath him, his thighs tensing, and not because he’s close to orgasm. Ardyn looks up, smiling at the sight of Ravus’s beautiful discomfiture.

He mouths over the head of Ravus’s cock and Ravus moans, hips lifting off the bed. “Damn you,” he breathes out, like a benediction. “Gods.”

_Not quite._

Ardyn strips him bare and then sits up, taking his time to divest himself of his vest and shirt, and then his boots and socks. He leaves his pants on as he climbs back on the bed. He runs two fingers slowly down the length of Ravus’s cock, already wet, but his eyes are on Ravus’s arms, curled still above his head. They’re bent at the elbows, each wrist clenched tight on the opposite forearm.

“Poor, _poor_ Ravus. They all tried to bind you with ropes and that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”  Ardyn settles between his legs, sucking the hot skin of Ravus’s balls in his mouth. “You want someone who can make you take it _without_ needing to do anything but tell you to do so. Not easy to find someone like that in a land full of simpering, obedient _sheep_ is it, my hungry young wolf?”

He sucks Ravus’s cock in his mouth, finally – Ravus moans, and his hips thrust up but he never drops his arms from their position above his head, his body is drawn exquisitely taut beneath Ardyn’s hands, his mouth.

“Just grab my hair if it’s too much,” Ardyn teases, because the easier it is for Ravus to stop this, the more he’ll fight and the better it will be when he doesn’t let himself do it. Ardyn spreads Ravus open with strong, steady ands and licks at his hole; the noise Ravus makes when Ardyn fucks him open with his tongue is deliciously tormented.

“Damn you, oh, damn you,” Ravus pants, his voice broken, and ah, Ardyn was right to think Ravus would look lovely falling apart.

Ardyn forces Ravus’s legs wider apart than they need to be, just because he knows Ravus will both hate being splayed open and love it. He’s breathing so fast that it might be worrisome if Ardyn were the type to worry, but since he’s not, he simply presses two fingers into Ravus’s wet, open hole and starts fucking him. He deliberately keeps his thrusts too shallow to hit Ravus’s prostate, wanting him to settle and knowing it will help.

“I was once told by a reliable source,” Ardyn says, as if they’re conversing again over dinner instead of fucking in the bed on which he never sleeps, “that young officers in the Imperial Army establish dominance by fucking their fellow cadets. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Ravus growls, glaring down at him. His hair is a mess from all the head-tossing and it’s hanging in his flushed face, which is damp with sweat.  

“And did you do that, hmm? Climb on some poor cadet’s back and make him take your cock?”

“No. Never.” Ravus arches up when Ardyn lets his fingers brush lightly over Ravus’s prostate. Just a taste of the pleasure to come, a tease and a threat both.

“Why not?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“They didn’t – deserve it,” Ravus growls, hips lifting as if chasing Ardyn’s deliberately unfulfilling caresses.

“They _didn’t_?” Ardyn gasps, all fake shock and wide-eyed mockery. “I’m so surprised to hear you say that. But surely they tried with _you,_ didn’t they? An exiled prince of a conquered land, who speaks like a noble and made no secret of how much he disdained their company? And so _pretty_?”

“Of course they tried.” Ravus is staring at him and his eyes are no longer cold, but they burn like fire, the whitest and hottest part of a flame. “While I slept. And do you want to know what I did to them?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Ardyn murmured, adding a third finger, starting to fuck Ravus harder, nailing that spot inside of him with unerring accuracy.

“I killed them. Every one. I had a dagger beneath my pillow and I slit their throats.” Ravus is panting and he’s fucking himself on Ardyn’s fingers just as hard as Ardyn’s fucking him. “Do you like that, you sick son of a bitch?”

“Quite,” Ardyn says, and he’s surprised by how much he _does_ like that. He grabs Ravus around the throat with his free hand while fucking Ravus as rough and hard as he can with his fingers. “And I bet I know just whose face they all wore, hmm? Both when you killed them, and after, when you got off remembering how you did it?” Smiling, he leans in closer. “Such a handsome young man, the Crown Prince.”

“Fuck me,” Ravus snarls at him, and he’s not frozen now; he’s burning bright like a flame, a star, skin hot enough that it burns Ardyn’s fingers. “ _Now_.”

Ardyn laughs and abruptly pulls back, rising to his feet so he can finish undressing. He won’t allow Ravus to kill Noctis, of course, because Noctis’s destiny is far more delicate a thing to arrange than a death. But perhaps he’ll let Ravus play with him, first. Ravus is pleasing him a great deal, and Ardyn is a believer in the reward system for good behavior.

He pauses before he climbs back on the bed, looking for lube, but Ravus says, “Don’t, no, I don’t want it,” which of course means he wants it to hurt more than he wants the pleasure, and Ardyn shakes his head and makes a _tsking_ sound in response.

He finds some lube in the bathroom drawer, amused at the thought of some Imperial underling stocking it there when he prepared the rooms for Ardyn’s use, and goes back to the bed. He climbs on Ravus and gently moves his arms from above his head, then takes Ravus’s chin in his fingers again. “I’m going to fuck you, now. It will feel so good you’re going to want to stop me, and you may try as hard as you like – just remember my one rule, Ravus, what was it?”

“Don’t – don’t make you bleed,” Ravus gasps. His eyes are as dark as the night sky, black with a thin band of ghost-gray.

“Such a good boy,” Ardyn purrs, then leans in to kiss him gently, so gently, a perfect lover…even as he shoves his slicked-up cock inside Ravus’s tight heat with one brutal thrust. He used lube but not _too_ much, he wants it to hurt before it feels good, wants to give Ravus that one moment to dread the pleasure he’s going to give him, the pleasure that Ravus won’t be able to stop.

Ravus tries, perhaps harder than Ardyn thought he would; he bucks beneath Ardyn’s weight, he shoves at him, he grabs Ardyn’s hair and pulls hard enough that _Ardyn_ gasps, and that gets Ravus a backhand across the face. Which isn’t what Ardyn should be doing, it’s the pleasure Ravus hates, the pain is just centering and Ardyn wants him to fucking fall apart.

So he braces himself with one hand and starts stroking Ravus’s cock with the other, staring down at him with ill-concealed triumph as Ravus struggles harder, tears leaking from his eyes as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm. He looks terrified, angry, he’s saying _stop, stop,_ but his cock is _wet_ with pre-come and he’s lifting into every stroke, every thrust of Ardyn’s hips.

“You can’t get away from me, pretty boy,” Ardyn murmurs, softly, and takes Ravus’s hand in his own to carry it down to his cock and force him to stroke himself. Ravus makes a sobbing sort of protest and Ardyn shushes him, grabbing him around the throat and choking him while he fucks Ravus as hard as he can. He strokes Ravus’s sweat-dampened hair out of his face and says, “You’re going to come, I can feel it – you’re going to come on my cock and you can’t stop it, it’s going to happen, I can feel it, yes, that’s it, stroke yourself, come for me, that’s it —”

Somewhere amidst Ardyn’s litany of encouragements, the chokehold and how brutally he’s fucking him, Ravus comes. His whole body shakes and he’s writhing underneath Ardyn in the hateful, wonderful pleasure that Ardyn has forced him to take.

Ardyn lets him breathe immediately, knowing that the sudden gasp of air will only make it better, and therefore worse. He lets Ravus fight through his orgasm and focuses on his own pleasure, which doesn’t take that long. It’s partly the way Ravus feels, his muscles clenching tight on Ardyn’s cock and partly how he’s shaking in the aftermath, a slave to the pleasure he wanted so badly for Ardyn to force him to take.

He falls a bit gracelessly on top of Ravus when it’s over, face buried for a moment in the space between Ravus’s neck and shoulder. The orgasm leaves him drained and the demons press against his mind like a weed-choked river trying to break a cracked dam, but he concentrates on the thrum of Ravus’s heart and his own ragged breathing to stay in control. There will come a time when he can be the inhuman thing the Scourge so badly wants him to be, but that time is not now.

Ardyn disentangles himself eventually – for all that he doesn’t mind touching, he’s not terribly fond of _being_ touched. He sits on the bed next to Ravus, reaching out and stroking his chest with a gentle touch. “You hated that.”

“So much,” Ravus agrees, eyes closed. He exhales, long and slow, and the tension drains out of him. The look he gives Ardyn is relaxed, calm. “That was very good. Thank you. My previous attempts to get that have been…lackluster is too kind a word.”

It’s so polite, it makes Ardyn want to laugh. “You’re quite welcome. I enjoyed myself immensely.” He leans in and kisses Ravus, soft and sweet, and when Ravus kisses back it’s easy and without any of that lingering, pent-up need. “I’d say that was almost worth enduring that terrible play.”

“Mm. I’m not entirely sure. Ask me again in the morning.” He smiles at Ardyn for the first time, tentative, almost shy.

Ardyn smiles back. _Oh, my poor, pitiful, tragic exiled prince. Your life shall be forfeit on my altar of ruin, but before the sacrificial blade descends, oh, the things I will show you._  

**Author's Note:**

> hi can i just write Ardyn Izunia forever, it's like the pinnacle of banter and ridiculous melodrama, i love him :|||


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